There's at least a hint of wellness creeping into my not-at-all-sexy croak and the violent coughing seems to have subsided. Not well enough to do much more than keep myself and Baby Flails-a-lot alive. Well, semi-alive. Husband-cat has been watching her during my periodic bouts of unconsciousness. Fingers crossed I'm better by tomorrow because, like this cat, we are out of ice cream.
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It's like a big fuck you to all those people who think animals can't think in the abstract enough to use tools or make do without thumbs.
"I don't need opposable thumbs, you bastards. I can leap a tall building in a single bound!"
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